


Dexterity

by Tokine



Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:04:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokine/pseuds/Tokine
Summary: For the Pokemon trainer and the various abilities that can be found throughout the game.





	

Blaze

The roads have worn her down today, and she's just a ghost of who she used to be. Victory road, they call it, but all she can feel is the blisters pulsating on her feet and the stretch of her ribs chafing her skin. She hasn't eaten, hasn't slept, and she's running fearfully low on berries. Looking to the Diggersby who had just hopped up to her, it's clear her pickup partner has had no luck in scavenging for any escape ropes. Nevertheless, the little thing had tried its hardest as evidenced by the heavy breathing of the little bunny, and she ignores the screaming opposition of the muscles in her legs in favor of picking it up and tousling the tufts of fur in between its ears. Murmuring her thanks, she recalls the bunny and runs a hand through her hair, sheared down to a mere suggestion of what her mane used to be- she didn't have the time to take care of it anymore, and the little amount she had left was covered in a sheen of grease. No, they never mentioned this part in the school, the days when you'd go days without sleeping or human interaction, the gauntness that would command your features, the aches and frustrations and queries on just why you hadn't given up yet. But she's always reminded, just as she's ready to call her mother (not an option now- the holo caster had long since died) when she battles just why she puts herself through it all. She's fiercely in love with her partners now, and the sacrifices they made for her would not be in vain. And if she had to sacrifice herself a little bit to get to that point, who was to judge? So she picks up her feet, adjusting her posture as to usual not to worry the Pokemon that supported her always. After all, they had plenty to worry about, it would be selfish to add herself to their mental lists. It's then, with a crackle and a pop as she aligns the bones in her back right into place again, that she sees the light in the distance, the sparkle of possibility and she wills herself not to get excited, that it's probably just another exit to a different floor. But she can't deny the surge of power and accomplishment she feels at making her way to the door, and Pokemon seem to fear challenging her determined countenance because they skitter away as she walks. She's almost afraid to progress through the doorway, afraid to break the spell she'd inadvertently cast. It's like coming to the realization in the middle of battle, being broken of an analytical trance, but for the sake of her partners she cannot be hesitant. The wild Pokemon skulk from the corner and watch her, and mindful of her audience she crosses the boundary, feels the sun for the first time in a week.

And then she near collapses, but perhaps she could blame her knees buckling based on the magnificent site of the castle of achievement in front of her and not dehydration.

Arena Trap

She can only imagine how terrified her Lucario is right now. Even she's felt the legendary presence from the first step in the cave: the centuries old air, untouched since perhaps the time the creature took residence here, and the faint feeling of raw power that even her sixth sense as a human can't help but bow to. Lucario's ears are quivering, and is trembling like the aura alone could drain them both of their life force, so should it will it so. She rubs consoling fingers over the Pokemon's temples, and considers for the third time this minute of recalling the Pokemon and using the escape rope. But the Pokemon had insisted beforehand of staying out of the ball for the entirety of the trip, and some mythical guidance seems to be guiding her feet through the cave, and she'd rather not anger a mythical force that she has no idea of how to combat by attempting to leave. She sees Lucario run ahead and throw an arm in front of her, and is about to inquire before she sees the rest of her Pokemon pop out of their balls with a crack of urgency. She stops, feels the air heavy with a massive presence in front of her. Raising her eyes, she feels the beast lower its head to her eye level. Her green eyes meet Zygarde's and her Pokemon bristle but do not move, and she knows they won't until she issues the order. She feels Diagla must be laughing wherever it is right now, laughing as it manipulates the strings and stretches this moment out, as she stands there and feels its heavy exhales hurricanes compared to her breaths, little wisps of wind that fall short easily. She bides her time, waits for one critical moment.

And then she runs and she's calling out commands for an intricate attack sequence all the while analyzing its movement, trying to anticipate the moment of weakness that she needs. The twitch of a tail, the flutter of an eye, her mind is sharp despite the haze of a battle and the flurry of movement and the sound of attacks meeting their target before her eyes and she recognizes the signs about a split second after Zygarde reveals them. Angling for the weakness at the base of the tail, she throws six dusk balls but she was foolish to underestimate a god, especially this far into her journey because the beast knocks them away and roars. Her eyes widen, her resolve tightens, and with a yell of encouragement they're at it again.

Cute Charm

She was known to be a serious woman, and how could she not be? Her battling achievements alone were impressive, coupled with her youth and unshakable bravery in the face of both terrorists and legendary Pokemon, she was outstanding. So it would surprise any informed viewer how that revered ruthless countenance took a complete about face when she encountered a rack of over the knee socks. For some reason, this was her accessory of choice, and the prospect of a selection of these socks thrilled the girl. Cooing over this pair and that, and reemerging from the dressing room with a different pair on every couple of minutes while judging her like for the sock by her Pokemon's cries of approval, Calem was struck by just how adorable this goddess of battle could be. He was grateful he'd dragged himself into the shop to search for a sweatshirt that didn't have holes, because the sight of his rival was truly a treat.

He sees her a week later at Sycamore's lab. It's hard for him to hold back his grin when he presents the girl with his gift ('think of it as a thank you present for saving the world and all that', he'd justified the box tied with a bow as), because the girl looks absolutely torn. Calem likes to think he does possess a sense of style, and the salesperson that helped him nodded approvingly as he made his selection. Trimmed with lace, adorned with small bows, they truly were very cute. But to watch her struggle between maintaining her dignified champion personality and her normal reaction to cute socks? It must have been some sort of witchcraft or charm, because he couldn't look away from the adorable reactions she was displaying.

"I don't know how you know, but thanks." That alone would be enough, but the quick hug afterwards was an unexpected but welcome bonus.

Aftermath

It's not easy rebuilding a town, especially after the events in Geosenge. The residents are endlessly grateful for her help, Haxorus's powerful claws easily reducing the boulders into more manageable rubble and Delphox's precise psychic proving matchless when rebuilding homes. The townsfolk adore her and her Pokemon, and before they know it they've become local legend: strong in the face of adversity but gentle when the situation called for a lighter touch. Despite it being their original goal, it's hard to leave once the town has been repaired to its former glory and then some. 

“You’ll come back and say hello every now and then?” Is the common question, but their bittersweet smiles seem to already know the answer. She’s built for bigger and greater things, and the idea of asking her to stay longer than necessary would be to disservice the rest of the region. She aches to stay with them longer though, in the warmth of the hazy dreamland of this rebuilt town. To fall asleep snuggling with her Pokemon every night to the lullaby of Lucario’s sonorous growls, her only goal being the process of rebuilding and restoring and refreshing anew. It’s satisfying, the change, having the ability to heal instead of destroy and she wants nothing more than to preserve the feeling forever. 

Guts

He is not something to be feared, that is the mantra she repeats in her head. He’s nothing more than a shell of his former self, and that’s what scares her. The man she knows hides behind that metallic visor, and the man she sees is hellbent on the world’s destruction. There was a man who looked at Sycamore with too soft eyes (she’d seen it - well, who hadn’t, honestly) and hid his smile behind his cup as the professor told the story of the latest mishap in his lab, and was it just her eyes playing tricks, or were Sycamore’s gesticulations more wild than usual, the man’s knees constantly brushing the other’s? There was a man who had insisted on giving her Delphox a sampling of his take on the Lumiose galette, carefully cataloguing the picky eater’s reactions to different levels of spices included. There was a man who felt and cared and looked to the future with confidence in one hand and life improving technology in the other. 

Haxorus growled, sizing up the enemy’s Pokemon.

That man was not here. 

Own Tempo

Waltz, she decides, is definitely not her calling. She’d worked with Tierno three or four times a week (and, in this week upcoming the ball, closer to five or six or seven) to just try and move her feet semi-gracefully to the beat, but it escapes her. He’d been so sweet, and helpful, and had somehow managed to convince her the night before that she would would fine and her partners would be absolutely entranced. And if by entranced he meant a belly laugh from Wulfric and a wince from Clemont, then Tierno had been absolutely correct. Honestly, who decided that the ball celebrating her new status as Champion that waltzing would be involved? She was a trainer, damn it, and everyone invited had dedicated their lives to training their Pokemon as well. Who in this room had enough time to learn an archaic dance that was so stuffy and structured that even her Lucario had to hide a giggle watching Tierno cheerfully correct her posture for the third time in forty seconds? 

Serene Grace

Battling, he decides, is definitely her calling. (As if her status as a Champion and the fact that she’d beaten him every time without her or her Pokemon displaying a single symptom of difficulty didn’t convince him.) But it was just in the way her synergy with her Pokemon shone through, their respect and loyalty unquestionable. Calem watched her confide in her Delphox, two pairs of eyes analyzing Valerie, and then Delphox recreating the dance movement, moving her trainer through the steps. Maybe the rest of pieces of becoming the Champion would take some work- her eyes met his mid step and he shot her a thumbs-up, inconspicuous in its appearance and she beamed- but with her team at her side, he knew they’d all come together in the end. 

Truant

Some days, she just didn't care. Couldn't bring herself to care about the journey she should be preparing herself for ahead, the one that consumed her friend's and family's fascinations. It was always 'journey this' or 'journey that'. She had to smile politely, but it made her stomach curl. School was just another hassle. Why should she care about type matchups and famous gym leaders? She wasn't going on a journey anyway. Her friends had been zombified into an obsessed state, their conversation of choice (and the topic no matter what she brought up it always seemed to circle back to) was always their starter Pokemon or different Pokemon they wanted to catch on the road.

Run Away

So she runs. She packs her bags and she runs and she runs and she runs, and this was the exhilaration she was searching for. 

Unburden

There was a little Fennekin, she’s forced to remember. Pain is part of the healing process. They drill it into their ears, and she eyes the doctor’s Excadrill with more mirth than actual venom. It’s partially a steel type anyway, her mind (un)helpfully supplies, so there was no need to waste her energy with poison type moves. It would be best to exploit weaknesses, and she plans her counterattack with fighting words that burn and sear their way into the doctor’s heart. Her fire is no match for the words that shake her ground, that wash over her like waves, and before long she’s telling everything, the fury and frustration and pain- where did you go? She went to the only place she knew- the steepest cliff and she slept on the precipice. It’s not like she could do it herself. Best let her restless sleeping take her there instead. It’s kind of ironic, she thinks, that this is the way she chose to go. She certainly didn’t live life on the edge. Wouldn’t it make sense to end it there then?

Cloud Nine

“Would you like to meet her again?” And she’s there before she can say no. 

“Hello,” She says to the fox, and Fennekin promptly bites down on her finger. “I think we can be friends.”

She’s absolutely certain now, how Fennekin was offended when she ran into save her. She’d be offended too, if the little fox had decided to try and fight her battles at that point. They had something in common, maybe. Something shared. Someone to understand.

Early Bird

She wakes up to screaming. This, in itself, is not an unusual occurrence, but the circumstances have deviated from their monotonous swirl. Did she have the physical strength to fight a Mightyena? No. 

She ran into the pack of them. 

Friend Guard

But Fennekin survived, and so did she. 

Parental bond

It's the first time she's been back in months, and her mother is incensed despite knowing this is what is to be expected when leaving on a journey. She's interrogated on a million little questions she has to lie to, and pretends she doesn't see Delphox sending her glances every time another slips out. Yes we're doing fine, the journey has been great, haven't encountered any terrorist organizations, and yes the weather has been pretty nice the past couple of days. (She blames the holes in her tent on a bout of overenthusiastic training and not a particularly nasty bout of torrential downpour.) And if she happens to fall asleep on the couch listening to her mother coo over her team and adorn them (even Haxorus) with ribbons and bows well, she's a teenage girl so an afternoon nap isn't that unrealistic, is it? (Never mind that she's forgotten what it is to fall asleep of one's own volition and not because her body demanded it.) Her mother convinces her Pokemon to stay for three more days so she does as well- and she relearns the blessing of a daily hot shower as opposed to a quick dip in a Gyrados infested lake as well as what a home cooked meal tastes like. Her mother sends her off with a hug and a strict reminder not to get into any form of trouble, and she's thankful once again of how slow word gets around to her sleepy town of her not quite so safe happenings.

Flower Gift

The sun is burning tan lines into her skin and really, she's terrible at soccer, but it's a beautiful day and her Pokemon have earned a break anyway. One of the benefits of this meadow is that despite the swarms that occasionally buzz by, it's peaceful, and the fame she's been generating (unwillingly, but there was no way not to be with her defeat of team flare) does get old sometimes. But here, the grass is soft under her fingertips and the light isn't garish painful flashes from the camera. Her Delphox croons excitedly under her touch, and she's struck by inspiration. Weaving flowers in her fingers, she sets a crown on the fire fox's head and curtsies, her grin evident. Her other Pokemon gather around and she indulges them too, gracing them with curtsies after they've been crowned. It's Delphox that makes the lump form in her throat though, because the crafty little fox had been carefully weaving her own flower crown for the trainer, making sure to control the fire that flowed easily from nimble paws. They crown her, chirping, cawing, barking, and roaring in approval, and she wonders for about the millionth time since she began this journey what great deed she had done to deserve her partners. She feels a rush of feeling there- the curious euphoria she felt at her first brush of the hand against Fennekin's pokeball, the chest bursting pride of when it's finally announced she and her partners were the new champions of Kalos, and the same paralyzing fear when she first locked eyes with Yveltal- this was the most glorious, precious thing in her life, and she could not would not screw it up. But she can't say it (she was never one for her words anyway) so she accepts the crown she never knew she had been wearing the entire time. The angel who only wanted to save the world but somehow her emotions only solidified into a ferocious temper and even more abundant competitive streak, the girl who screams at spiders and the woman who saved her tears for when she thought she was alone, their queen and most devoted servant. Most just called her the champion of Kalos, the disbander of Team Flare, or any of the accolades she'd acquired over the years.

But they called her 'friend'.


End file.
